


Alternate-Self-cest-Kinky-Fetish-Shit, Go!

by a_stands_for



Category: Homestuck
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Dream Bubble, Exhibitionism, F/M, Genderswap, Het, Pegging, Puppets, Rap Battles, Self-cest, Sex Toys, Strip Games, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 19:11:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_stands_for/pseuds/a_stands_for
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the kink meme. Originally posted May 2011.</p><p>In which Mom introduces Bro to his distaff counterpart, and sparks fly.  As do rhymes.  And clothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternate-Self-cest-Kinky-Fetish-Shit, Go!

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Bro/Sis + Mom voyeur in a dream bubble. Originally posted [here](http://homesmut.livejournal.com/6376.html?thread=6504168#t6504168).
> 
> (Today the A stands for Autoeroticism)
> 
>  

Bro tugged at the collar of his suit a bit, not sure how he felt about this. That Classy Lady had insisted that he wear it, though, before she would show him the “item of interest” she had found. His first suspicion when he heard the requirement was that she was unsubtly arranging a date with him, which was just ironic enough that he went along without any fuss. After all, they'd already had two kids together without even the benefit of getting into each others' pants. He'd thought she had a thing for the fatherly, pipe-smoking dude, but couldn't blame her for wanting a piece of Bro action on the side.

So he had shown up in the dream-bubble she specified, decked to the nines in an ironically pure white tux. His little brother wasn't the only one who could jazz it up with sweet duds. But instead of finding a fox of an older woman with an enigmatic smile waiting, there was someone else entirely.

He stared at the stranger with an arched brow, and she did the same. The chick appeared to be exactly his age, with similarly pale hair in a short, sassy cut. She was wearing a shimmering evening gown, also in white, one of those daring ones that plunged so low in back you could almost see dat ass it was clearly drawing attention to. And what an ass! Daaaaaaamn.

Most strikingly, though, were the pair of dark pointed shades blocking her eyes from view. They were perfectly identical to his own, and she wore them like they belonged there. The confidant tilt of her head, the lean muscles of her exposed arms, the cocky way she held her carriage... there wasn't a bit of her that didn't scream “Strider.”

Bro was the first to speak. “Huh. It's me. With tits.”

Sis couldn't resist but to respond in kind. “And you're me. As a dick.”

Twin wry grins twisted their lips, flashing an identical amount of gleaming white teeth. They sauntered towards each other, blatantly checking each other out as they circled. Sis's aforementioned stack was round and perky, not too big, as befitted such an athletic figure. Her waist was firm and narrow, her hips wide and tempting. A slit in the gown revealed teasing glimpses of her long, milky smooth legs. Sis's hidden eyes trailed over the line of Bro's broad shoulders, down the smooth s-curve of his back to his trim waist, all expertly accented by the cut of his suit. She coolly appraised his pants, front and back, eyebrow twitching in approval.

Pausing their movements at the same time, as if it was the next step in a well-rehearsed dance, they finished undressing each other with their eyes and stood face to face.

“Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?” Sis asked coyly. Bro smirked.

“Absolutely.”

There was a brief flurry of flash-step movement before they reappeared in the exact same position. Now they were wearing their usual clothes, swords casually resting on their shoulders. Matching black pants clad their loins, topped with identical belts. Sis's white shirt was slightly different; her shoulders were exposed, revealing the straps of her black sports-bra. Leather gloves encased both sets of hands, and gray ball-caps topped each head. There was a moment's pause as they admired each other again, taking in the novelty of their normal clothes being worn by such a fine example of the opposite sex.

Then they lowered their swords, and the strifing began.

From outside their bubble, Mom smiled over her martini. She should have known.

The clash of katanas rang like a song through the fake environment, which was transforming from the classy restaurant balcony that Mom had imagined into a sky-high blistering rooftop. This was the way they liked it; glaring red sun staring balefully down, sweat glistening off flashes of skin as they darted in and out of sight, the only dancers on the dance floor. This was what they'd been longing for, what they'd been training their young charges for. The whoosh of air, the crash of swords, the whisper of steps, and the pounding of blood filled their ears with rhythm, and the banter began.

“Come at me, Bro! Show me your stabs!  
Too long have I longed for a foe that knows  
How to strike the blows  
Cuttin' wit  
Block a hit  
Lemme hear ya lay it down, take it home  
In your sexy baritone!”

“Razored tongue, honeyed blade  
She's the chick who's got it made  
Runnin', gunnin', muscle, hustle  
Flaunt it!  
She's got the magic finger  
One crook and she can have it  
The world upon her platter.”

They paused for a beat, verbally and physically, to stare each other down. As one, they each reached up a hand, removed the caps from their heads, and tossed them aside. Then they were at it again.

“Look out, ladies!  
Here comes a man who knows his way  
Navigatin' the chilly depths  
Makin' sweet aural love  
But  
What for all the girls before  
Were only nothings, sweet  
I got 'em beat  
'Cause for once the gilded flattery  
Ain't no falsity!”

“Some might make a face  
Mocking grace  
Out of place  
Dissin' on our blatant narcissism  
I say 'Fuck em' all!'  
Pickin's are small  
When you're above them all  
Perfection with perfection  
Is a match that can't be passed!”

Another pause, chests heaving with exertion from their multi-layered battle. They grinned at each other before doffing their shoes and socks, uncaring of the bubbling rooftop heat that now burned against their bare feet. In a moment it didn't matter anyway, because their feet were moving too fast to get burned.

“A stunning performance  
Arousing, the chorus  
The sun bows before us  
Hail to the Pimp King!  
Hail to the Pimp Queen!  
Dishin' to the cravin' masses  
Addicts of the puppet ring.”

“Like masters we know  
The kink's in the show  
An audience;  
Required to fan the flames  
Lost Lil' Cal  
Bet you did too  
Guess the Classy Lady with the scarf will have to do.”

Still they were evenly matched. Neither had faltered, neither had landed a blow on the other. This time they surrendered their shirts. Bro arched a brow at her black bra, which stayed put, but Sis merely smirked and licked her lips predatorily.

“Every girlie knows it's tough  
To find a guy who knows his stuff  
Good enough  
Hot and rough  
Backs his bluff  
Got the prowess to wow us  
So if I'm a master in that scene  
You've gotta be a gal's wet dream!”

“Babe, you know it!  
Like in mind  
Like in bed  
Like in kinky fetish shit  
I know your wildest fantasies  
The genuine behind your irony  
You want it?  
I've got it!  
Let the games begin.”

They finished this round standing much closer than before, and shed their pants slowly without breaking each other's gaze. Both chose not to count the belts as separate; they were getting a bit impatient. Bro was now clad in a black pair of briefs, Sis in a matching lady's boy-brief. Bro frowned at her matching sporty undergarments, realizing his numerical disadvantage.

“Would you like a handicap?” Sis purred.

“Hell no, I know when I've lost the game.”

She gave him a wry half-grin, slinking forward and taking the point of his sword between two fingers. Pulling it to her chest, she slipped it carefully up the front of her bra.

“Consider it a freebie,” she breathed.

A flick of his wrist, and the cloth was sliced open, her breasts bobbing with the sudden release of restraint. She slid the ruined garment from her arms, and a moment later two identical katanas clattered onto the rooftop. Leather gloved hands were tightly gripping black clad asses, bare chests pressed together and pointed shades narrowly missing each other as they shoved their tongues down each others' throats.

The environment was breaking apart again, reforming into the living room of the Strider apartment. The beating sun was finally shaded, though it wasn't much cooler inside. Backing toward the futon, a swift kick was all it took to unfold it. They broke apart from their session of tonsil-hockey to glance at the bed, both arriving at the same conclusion.

There was a sudden flurry of flash-steps. The room was gleaned, the crawlspace raided, and suddenly the futon was cushioned by a rainbow of plush puppet ass. Ironically appropriate porny music was oozing from the stereo system.

Much better.

They embraced once more and Bro sprawled on his back across the smuppets, pulling his female counterpart on top of him. For the next several moments things were surprisingly calm, as they began to explore their differences by touch. Sis stroked the stubble on his face, his sideburns, the Adam's apple responsible for his deliciously deep voice, and his broad shoulders. Bro stroked her soft cheeks, trailing his fingers lightly over her chin and up to her lips, which were somehow smaller and fuller at the same time. Her shoulders were much smaller, as were her arms, even though he could feel the dense muscle-tone under the surface. He ran his hands down her back and sides as she ran hers down his chest, both using a long, slow motion that ended at the hips.

They thought about it, then unfastened their gloves with their teeth and ripped them off. Hands ran over skin again, this time with palms free to feel the sensation. Perfect.

Fingers slipped under black drawers, both pairs getting pushed down as Bro kneaded the round flesh he'd been craving and Sis fondled the balls underneath his erection. The two Striders gave breathy murmurs of appreciation.

“So. Who tops first?” Sis asked.

“You. I'd say it's 'ladies first,' be all chivalrous and shit, but we both know it's just 'cause a guy needs a little time for seconds.”

She grinned and plucked a certain puppet from the pile. Bro identified it with a glance and licked his lips. Miss Peggy. It was bubble-gum pink, had a firm ribbed nose, and several belts sewn into its sides. Reverently, Bro slid Sis's underwear the rest of the way off, replacing it with the fuzzy strap-on. She adjusted the straps, getting everything snug and situated.

“On your knees, partner,” she purred.

As soon as Bro shifted his weight, his briefs were whipped away. Sis made a point to give his ass a sharp slap as he turned around, kneeling in the puppet pile and using the wooden armrest of the futon for support. He peered over his shoulder and watched as she ran her fingers teasingly over another selection of plush rumps, finally plucking up a familiar one and clenching a hand around its middle. Lubricant oozed from its proboscis (kids can tell their parents it's snot!) which she used to grease up her silicone phallus. Puppet tossed aside, she grabbed his hips with her clean hand and used the slick one to trace circles around her target.

“I trust you won't need much preparation.”

Bro snorted. “There are no ass-virgins here.”

“So true,” she smiled, and stuck in a few fingers. Bro might have inhaled audibly, but she was kind enough not to comment. Slipping in and out, a bit further each time, she stretched her long digits as far as they could reach until she found what she was looking for. A moan rumbled through the man's body as she started a gentle, circular massage over his prostate.

“I'd say 'tell me what you want,' but I already know.”

“Fuck, yeeessssss.”

She moved closer, pulling her fingers out and squeezing those cheeks apart as she directed his movements. He pushed down, she pushed up, and suddenly puppet face and man-ass were intimately acquainted.

For a moment Sis leaned against his back, running her hands with relish over his shoulder-blades and down his spine, since she hadn't yet had the opportunity. She embraced him, feeling the way his chest expanded with each heavy breath. Bro readjusted his grip on the rail in anticipation.

“Be loud,” she ordered, and the fucking began.

Bro was glad for the command; he could let loose without feeling like he was losing face. Sis dug her fingers into his hips and slammed up into him, strong pelvic muscles and legs backing every thrust. Bro's body rocked with the force, and trembled with the pleasure. A fresh round of sweat broke out over his skin, rolling down his face to bead on his chin. One moment he would be filled to absolute fullness, making him moan, then Sis would back out more slowly, letting him feel every gasp inducing bump. And if that weren't enough, every pass, in and out, brushed agonizingly against that male g-spot, making his temperature skyrocket has he flushed all over. His mouth was open as he panted, letting every noise he might normally have kept hidden free.

“Jegus... you're good at this... holy fuck...that's the—shit, right _there_! Oh gog, that's... uuuhhhhhh...” He gurgled off into incomprehensibility, his normal eloquence out the window. He whined because he knew she wanted him to. He growled because he could feel the way it made her shiver. He shouted, great shameless moans because he wanted the Classy Lady to hear it and squirm with arousal. He thrust downward to join in the dance with the gorgeous babe behind him, because _hot damn_ he needed to and couldn't stop himself. His erection swelled to painful proportions, flushing an angry purple, veins clearly visible.

“Shhhhhhhhit,” he found his ability to speak again, sort of. “N-now, yesssss... gog! Please!”

Sis suddenly swiped her tongue in a broad sweep up his spine, puckered her lips, and blew a blast of cool air across the moist streak on his back. A startled cry burst from Bro's throat and he was spurting like a geyser, great torrents of semen spraying erratically over the armrest and slinging across the floor. Ragged gasps tore in and out of his lungs and his elbows trembled with the strain accumulated from holding himself up and absorbing the blows.

Sis let him ride out his orgasm before she slipped out of him, unfastened Miss Peggy and dumped her on the floor. Trampling puppet faces and rumps with her knees, she moved around Bro, slid under one of his muscular arms and took a seat between them on the armrest, trailing feathery kisses over his lips and chin. As Bro's mind slowly came back to him, he tilted his head and returned her attentions, equally tender.

He shifted his weight to free his hands and gripped her shoulders, kneading them for a moment before slipping his fingers down to her elbows and encouraging her to lift them up to embrace his neck. As soon as she had done so he stroked her sides, trailing his hands upward until the heels of his palms were brushing the sides of her breasts teasingly. Her mouth forgot what it was doing, lips parted slightly under his.

Hands shifted, and now Bro was running his thumbs ever so lightly in wide circles around the orbs. They rose and fell with the faint movement of her chest, giving away the fact that her breath was becoming unsteady. The ghostly touch left electric tingles in its wake as the concentric circles he traced grew smaller and smaller, closing in on her projecting nipples. Sis's mouth fell open wider, stuttering breath escaping to fan across her tormentor's lips. Bro smiled.

He smiled even bigger at the hiss she made when he finally swiped his thumbs over the soft, erect nubs. He grinned toothily at the breathy, high pitched moans he encouraged by gently twisting the pink tips between his fingers. And he positively leered when he reached one hand behind her shoulders to support her, leaned her back slightly, and replaced that hand's ministrations with his mouth; flicking with his tongue, sucking, and lightly nibbling the sensitive flesh. Her choked curses were delicious.

Carefully Sis slipped from her seat on the armrest to her knees, using the wooden support for her elbows instead. She let her head fall back as Bro moved his supporting arm a little lower, reaching it around her torso to stroke her breast. The other hand moved away from tweaking a nipple to slide down between her thighs. She groaned and shifted, spreading her legs wider apart in anticipation.

Those teasing fingers traced over the engorged lips they found there, painting a picture with the wetness that leaked from within. The touch disappeared for a moment as Bro chose his weapon, and a moment later something cool and artificial pressed against her swollen clit. There was a soft click, and suddenly vibrations coursed a burning fire of pleasure through Sis's body.

She cried out loudly, wavering falsetto tones that seemed to whip unsteadily from vowel to vowel. The hand and mouth at her breasts had not once faltered, and the coordinated attack was decimating her control. She lost the strength to hold herself up, so Bro lowered her arched back to the armrest, her arms winging limply over the edge with her head. From his position beside her he shifted his weight to one knee, slipping the other beneath her rear so her lower half was lifted in the air, resting on his leg. Her newly freed knees trembled.

Still he relentlessly fondled, tweaked, tongued and licked her tits. A faint click and the humming from the toy at her groin changed in pitch, its tremors jumping in speed. Suddenly Sis couldn't take it anymore; a vivid flush raced down her exposed neck, every muscle tensed and she began convulsing like a woman possessed. A glossy sheen broke out over her reddened, shaking body. Her hips bucked upwards for a few seconds, then tried to get away.

But Bro wouldn't let her go. Trapped across his leg, she couldn't retreat from the merciless vibrations no matter how she squirmed. Shrieks of pleasure tore from her throat. Her feet found purchase and she stretched upwards into an arch, but there was no escape that way either. Collapsing back down once more, she tried to sit up but Bro unwrapped his arm from around her and placed his hand gently, but firmly, at the base of her neck, pinning her to the armrest. He finally pulled his mouth away, straightening up so he could enjoy the view. Sis cursed and encouraged him simultaneously between screams, knowing her actions were mostly involuntary but unable to stop them in the face of such exquisite torment.

Bro drew her orgasm out for all it was worth, milking every wail and shudder. When he judged she'd had all she could take, he pulled the toy away and flipped it off, chucking it away to join the other fallen smuppets on the floor. He removed his restraining hand, stroking her her throat apologetically as he listened to her pant hoarsely for air. They were still for a few moments before he slipped an arm under her knees and back, lifted her gingerly in the air, and laid her back down gently across the bed of plushies. She murmured weakly as he stretched out over her, careful not to crush her, and began pressing faint kisses against the base of her neck. He didn't bite; they both hated receiving hickeys. Such bruises were a mark of possession, and Striders couldn't be tamed.

Although the irony in this situation was tempting.

Languid arms finally reached up and began stroking Bro's back. “Was it good for you, too?” he joked, making her grin. “Oooh, Mr. Strider, oooh,” she chuckled. Ironies secured, their lips met once more, hands sliding up to ruffle through damp, identically textured hair. Sis was starting to recover and, judging by what she could feel rubbing against her, someone else was too.

“What shall we try next?” he murmured, giving her earlobe a little nibble. Sis considered, moistening her lips as she thought about it. “Swap me places,” she decided.

They rolled over, and she took the opportunity to sit up and stretch the kinks out of her shoulders. Bro waited patiently, resting his arms behind his head. With a swift motion she turned around, scooting backwards to lay across his torso on her stomach, plump rump in his face.

“I'm feeling numerical,” she confessed, and ran a teasing tongue along his half-hard dick. It twitched, rising up to meet her attentions. She felt an answering lick from behind, hands squeezing her posterior with enthusiasm. She ran moist streaks around the bulbous tip, so he made lazy circles around her puckered entrance. When she ran trailing strokes down his shaft, he countered by stroking a finger inside the folds of her vulva, coating it with the juices from her previous orgasm. And when she parted her lips and dipped her head down, he slipped the moistened finger into her backdoor and his tongue into her vaginal sheath.

Not surprisingly it dissolved into a contest; who could be the most distracting without getting distracted. Moans of pleasure elicited more pleasure via the vibrations they made, inspiring more moans. Bro somehow found the concentration to locate a lube-dispensing plush, allowing him to slick down more fingers and broaden the attack. Sis retaliated by giving the insufferable prick, now standing full at full attention, a powerful suck. He swirled his tongue around inside her; she did the same inside her mouth. Shudders ran full circle, a yin-yang of one-up-sexmanship.

They broke apart suddenly, gasping for air. Sis scrabbled frantically through the puppets, searching for something. Bro couldn't see what it was, but definitely recognized the feeling of a condom rolling down his flesh.

“Good call,” he remarked between breaths. “I don't want to find out I'm my own undead father, somehow.”

“Oh, you won't be making baby Striders where you're going,” Sis chuckled. Bro grinned, the sensation of a certain smuppet slipping around him combining with her words to reveal her intentions. Mr. Prong was a strap-on like Miss Peggy, but his curved nose jutted impudently above Bro's own phallus. A moment later and the two projections were greased up, Sis had spun around to face him, and was easing herself over both of them at once.

Bro tried to snark something about impatience, but choked off the sentence as he was squeezed incredibly tight. Sis couldn't be bothered to respond, busy as she was adjusting to being so incredibly filled. It was an impossible turn of events that only one person (Mom) was privileged to witness; two Striders, at a loss for words.

The moment passed, and suddenly Sis found herself on her back again. Smirking, she wrapped her legs around Bro's waist as he pillowed a few more smuppets under her hindquarters. He leaned over her once he was satisfied, supported by his hands beside her, and they stared at each other through their dark shades. The porny music was still pumping through the stereo, filling their blood with rhythm.

“Touch yourself,” Bro commanded, then pulled out and returned with slamming force. Her breasts jostled under the blow before she brought her hands up to them, cupping and squeezing them while he watched. Her tongue darted across her lips as she groaned, losing herself to the onslaught of sensations. He rocked into her hard and steady, the curved dildo pressing into the sensitive spot inside her while at the same time his dick rubbed back and forth over another ring of tingling membranes. Her moans and wails stuttered out and weaved with the music, creating an erotic mix he controlled with his hips instead of his hands. 

His eyes followed her fingers as they tugged and twisted erotically at her own nipples. The repeated exchange of hot, vice-like tightness with cool open-aired relief was rapidly defeating him. He began gasping, all semblance of rhythm forgotten as he bucked into her with abandon. Sis relished his desperation, squeezing with her legs to thrust back into him. She ran a hand down to her clitoris as she felt the heat rising, running her fingers over the slippery flesh to push herself over the edge. With a red-faced cry she went rigid all over, her legs clamping around Bro so tightly he couldn't escape. Trapped inside her constricting flesh he could hold back no longer, balls tightening as he pumped out his sweet release with a string of senseless shouts.

Heaving breaths filled the air as their voices trailed off. Bro's arms were shaking, but he managed to keep himself up. Euphoria crept over their senses, mixing with exhaustion to fill their heads with haze. Bro finally pulled out and ditched the puppet and sodden condom so he could crash down beside her. They lay on their sides, lungs slowing, arms slung over each other in a loose embrace.

Perception slowed to a crawl, mixing with the oppressive heat to suspend the moment in time. Bro and Sis stared at each other, one last desire crossing their minds. It was too personal to speak aloud, moreso than all the things they'd already done. Too vulnerable. Too genuine.

So they reached out a hand to each others' pointed sunglasses, slipped them off, and put them on their own faces.

It was a pointless gesture, exchanging shades. They were identical in every way.

But if they had paused for a moment in the middle of the transaction, vivid red eyes meeting vivid red eyes for the first time...

Well. No one else could know for sure.

* * *

Ms. Lalonde shrieked with pleasure, once again causing Mr. Egbert to wonder what on earth had gotten into her. Not that he was complaining.

The Classy Lady only smiled enigmatically when he asked.

_Gog_ , she loved knowing exhibitionists! 

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure to check out this [gorgeous drawing](http://paperbarkscrolls.tumblr.com/post/6756829268) courtesy of Mixt, my inspiration for all things Sis Strider!


End file.
